It Takes Less Effort to Smile Than to Frown
by girly tomboy
Summary: He has long since discarded the remnants of a broken and scarred past. At least, he thought he did.


Anime: Gintama

Characters: Kagura and Kamui (Sibling-Centric)

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: All rights belong to the genius Sorachi Hideaki

**A/N: I apologize for the long wait, but my schedule has been quite hectic. Anyways, this story takes place after the current arc and Kamui and Kagura's battle (Chapter 515). Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>It Takes Less Effort to Smile Than to Frown<p>

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><p>"From now on, Kagura will be your little sister. Take <em>good <em>care of her, _ne, _Kamui_?_" His mother smiles softly, looks at her son and new-born daughter with such love and admiration he could literally feel the warmth.

"Of course! I'm going to be the bestest brother ever!" A little boy, no older than four breaks out into a large smile, showing to the world the multiple missing teeth in his pearly whites. It doesn't seem deter him in the slightest, and his mother chuckles at his enthusiasm.

It wasn't until after she's went outside to tend to their garden that Kamui starts to wonder.

_'… What am I going to do with her?'_

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><p>"I want that one!" Somewhere near them, a white rabbit pops its head out of a bush.<p>

A second later, and a Yato toddler with vermilion hair and fierce blue eyes to match trips and falls flat on her face.

Kamui stifles his laughter, watches in amusement as his dearest sister hops right back up in determination. As if teasing her, the rabbit jumps in front of the tiny ball of energy once more, and wriggles its tail before disappearing from sight.

"Kamui-nii! Catch it for me!"

He halts in his tracks and stares at his younger sister for the longest time as it occurs to him-

This was the first time she had called him 'Kamui-nii.'

With a slight boost to his ego, he concludes that it has a nice ring to it.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ne, <em>Kamui-nii, play with me!" A four-year-old girl with a grin as wide as her eager eyes looks up at him, tugs the soft material of his sleeve endlessly.

Kamui merely frowns in return.

"Your older brother is a big kid now. Go play somewhere else."

He inwardly smirks in satisfaction as Kagura steps back, calculates that she'll tear and run back to their sick mother in a span of mere seconds, maybe yell his name in indignation as she does so.

Instead, much to Kamui's bemusement, she does the opposite.

Instead, she clings onto him for dear life. Her cerulean eyes become wider, if that was even possible, and she regards him with the most knowing look she could muster.

It scares him a little.

"No. I'm never, _ever _letting go."

* * *

><p>Kamui awakes with a start.<p>

Past the pounding of his head against his skull, he remembers the vague image of a little, vermilion haired girl; a memory, almost.

_'… A dream?' _

He rarely has dreams.

Before Kamui has a chance to wonder, the strong scent of sterilizer and cleanliness interrupts him, bombards him with a scene he is unfamiliar with.

He glances around, eyes darting to the nth amount of bandages around his arms and torso, to the ironically white walls all around, to the soft sheets of the hospital bed beneath him.

He glances down at his right knuckle, and sees that it is neatly wrapped, the bandages continuously replaced.

Kamui can only manage a small frown.

The image of an energetic Kagura suddenly flits his mind, and he feels a sense of déjà vu stir within him. The odd sensation is gone in a second when a zephyr from the open window rustles his vermilion locks. Almost involuntarily, he is reminded of the much more raucous, much more dreary winds and rains of his home planet; a drab place he had sworn to never set foot on again.

He flexes his fingers. With a startling clarity Kamui realizes that they are not as sore as he expects them to be, and gently pulls the crisp white sheets away from his form. Cautiously, skeptically, he wriggles his toes, and almost smiles in accomplishment when they move. Almost.

He forgets for a moment that a cold-blooded killer doesn't, shouldn't fret over such trivial matters.

Yet he does anyways.

He does because those very same toes lead him out of the hospital bed and into the empty hallway. There, he scours. For what, he did not know.

It was then that a sudden stroke of ingenuity strikes him, and he follows an unknown force beckoning him onwards. To where, he had yet to find out.

Soon enough, Kamui feels the telltale signs of nearing his destination. Before he knows it, his heart is speeding up and a fleeting emotion momentarily halts him in his steps. He pauses for the slightest second and wonders, only to disregard the strange feeling in an instant when his nose suddenly twitches-

Food.

The scent smacks him in the face, and he finds himself drooling. Immediately, the salmon-haired teen picks up his pace, albeit for an entirely different reason. At this point, his rather empty stomach gives a boisterous growl, and he smiles at the thought of sinking his teeth into the origins of such an aroma.

In no time, he arrives at his destination- another hospital room.

Kamui forcibly slides the door open with a flick of his wrist, blithe smile placed accordingly on his features. He steps in, locates the source of food, and halts not even a moment later.

For right there on the bed, lies a girl with the same shade of vermilion hair as him and bandages wrapped up to her chin, peacefully dozing away.

He can only manage to frown again.

Just like that, his exuberance wavers, and the teen is, for once in his life, unsure of what to do.

Instead, Kamui stands there and stares at the figure of who he once called a younger sister. He stares at the figure of someone who he realizes just now that he could discern from practically anywhere.

The very thought terrifies him.

In an instant, memories of a past long shredded and abandoned return, and he finds his breath hitching ever the slightest. All too suddenly, it is increasingly difficult to breathe.

_"Kamui-nii, Mami told you to play with me!"_

_ "Kamui-nii is the bestest older brother ever!"_

_ "Where are you going?! I want to come too!"_

_ "... Why does Kamui-nii always come back with injuries?"_

The pounding in his head takes a turn for the worse, and he grips it in a futile attempt to block the oncoming surge of images. He doesn't know why this is so, for mere hours prior he had absolutely no trouble duking it out with his sister.

Was it the fact that he had underestimated her, only to be proven wrong? Was it the fact that she had actually defied _him, _of all people? Or maybe, was it the fact that in the end, he wasn't able to defeat her?

_"I have no use for weaklings."_

It's true, he doesn't.

So why, as he stares at the biggest one in the room, does that not sound right?

It astounds Kamui, and a small part of him, a part he refuses to ever let into the light, knows exactly why.

Torn between fleeing and erupting in disbelief and rage, the bandaged Yato feels himself hanging on a thin thread, bordering on the precipice of sanity and insanity. The mere thought that a fourteen-year-old with no tact whatsoever is the cause of such war-torn chaos worries him.

He had only ever felt such agonizing displeasure when he first lost control of himself.

_'How ironic.' _Kamui thinks to himself how _he _is now the timid and hesitant one, unsure of what to do with the girl lying right in front of him. Subconsciously, he takes a few steps forward.

He realizes too late when he finds himself at the side of Kagura's bed.

As if plague-ridden, the teen lackadaisically hovers his fingers along her side, watches the thin appendages encroach forward, yet never making contact.

What he is afraid of, he doesn't have the faintest clue.

Almost as if in a vice-like grip, the pressure Kamui feels on his fingers doesn't waver, and his uncertainty is showing through the tiny grimace on his face.

The ephemeral moment is gone in the next second, however, when Kagura suddenly whimpers in discomfort.

Quicker than lightning, he retracts his hand back to his side. The quiescent atmosphere completely shatters, and he is extremely close to high-tailing out of the room. Still, a subconscious part of him insists on staring at his younger sister in curiosity. One foot adamantly places itself near the bed and the other one is preparing his escape.

"K-Kamui... nii..."

All thoughts of fleeing immediately abandon him.

It starts off as a small inquiry at first, a spark of barely contained surprise at the mention of his name. It is only when Kagura starts to thrash and flail about that Kamui races to her side. The image of his ill mother involuntarily flashes through his mind.

He has time to question his habits later, for a more imminent task looms right in front of him.

On a whim, he touches her forehead, recoils just as quickly afterward when he feels it burning up.

Kagura has a fever, and Kamui has absolutely no idea how to help her.

He panics for a split second, remembers that there are nurses for a _reason,_ and makes an utter fool out of himself as he fidgets and fumbles around in uncertainty.

He recollects himself, swears to deny his earlier blunder even in the deepest pits of Hell, and is just about to rush out of the room (or rather, as fast as his cold-blooded, uncaring reputation allows him to).

The weak grip on his shirt hem prevents him from doing so.

There are few things able to successfully startle Kamui.

Kagura is one of them.

Akin to a robot, he hesitantly turns around and takes in his younger sister's half-lidded eyes, labored breathing, tears trickling down the side of her face.

She is having a nightmare. About him.

A foreign sensation gripes at Kamui, wraps itself around his heart and gives it a painfully tight clench.

The same fragile grip clawing and tugging at his shirt brings him back. His name is thrown somewhere within the coalescent garble of her worst fears and memories, alongside something that sounds distinctly like _'Mami' _and _'Papi.'_

"Please... Don't leave..."

He starts once more, realizes that she is talking in her sleep.

The revelation does nothing to ease him.

Kamui has long since discarded the overly blithe expression he always seems to frequent, and it is at this moment that he concludes.

He does not have it in him to care.

It is brief and fleeting, but his mind replays their last battle in his head.

_"I am Kagura, a girl born on Earth. I won't let anyone make light of my home."_

Weak. Pathetic, even.

For him to feel such distraught over her words- the irony isn't lost on him.

She, Kagura, his Kagura, is spreading her wings and taking off, just like he did. Except, she has a new family, a new home, a new life.

One Kamui takes little part in.

It doesn't bode well with him. Shamefully, he relishes in the fact that just this once, she is actually thinking of him, however painful. Still, something akin to guilt (but not quite) settles within him, latches on like a deprived animal. It doesn't lessen in the slightest; persisting as it swells in the pits of his stomach and threatens to eat him from the inside out.

Another whimper, and Kamui finds his hand reflexively reaching toward her trembling figure. His defenses lower for a split second and he thinks to himself that nothing will happen if he allows his body this one liberty. That this insignificant touch will not change anything.

It does.

Rough and calloused fingers meet soft vermilion locks. The effect is immediate.

Just like that, Kagura returns back to slumbering away in tranquility. Her breathing calms, and he can longer discern the dilated pupils of her eyes. The sheen of sweat on her forehead lessens significantly, and he's lying if he says he isn't even slightly relieved.

The moment is gone in a flash when Kamui realizes exactly what he is doing to her, what he is doing to himself. The teen reaches a startling epiphany as he reluctantly hovers over her figure-

This is probably the last time he will see her.

Immediately, he squashes the tiny sliver of hope that wells in his chest. He is a cold-blooded murderer; a fighter who only lives on the thrill of battle and the blood it spills.

He doesn't have family. He doesn't deserve family.

Kamui reconfirms this simple fact over and over again. Akin to a mantra he silently repeats, ingrains it in the very blood running through his veins, ingrains it within him for every drop of blood he has ever spilled (not like he can remember).

"Kamui-nii is... the bestest... older brother... ever. I... lo-"

In an instant he is back by Kagura's side before she can finish her sentence. Before he wants her to finish her sentence. Ever so gently, he runs his fingers lightly over her porcelain face, hesitant to touch. The ticklish sensation halts her mid-word, and she thrashes slightly in her slumber to ease the sudden discomfort, sentence long forgotten.

Kamui forcefully shoves away the sudden pain in his chest, shoves away the hope that he will be around to hear Kagura finish what he knew she would say.

He remembers their battle. Too clearly for his liking, in fact.

He remembers the countless times she had sacrificed her own prowess for the sake of catching him off guard. He remembers every single technique she used; every single skill he was absolutely certain she didn't learn from him nor Umibozu.

But it was neither her tenacity or her prowess that ultimately lead to their draw.

It was the knowing look she had in her bright eyes, one from years back.

He had lowered his guard then. An image of a child Kagura reaching for his scarred, bruised body assaulted him, still does, in fact, and she took the opportunity to strike. Had a nearby explosion not interfered, he indubitably knew she would have been the victor.

Kamui snaps out of his reverie, content with just watching over Kagura. He silently wonders-

When was it that he started to care for her again?  
>When did he ever stop?<p>

The salmon-haired Yato takes this moment to observe his younger sister, to observe the ridges between her furrowed eyebrows and the red, fever-stricken countenance of her cheeks. Her breathing isn't as labored as earlier, and he takes this chance to acquiesce to his more than troubling thoughts.

Kamui has long since cut his ties. With their planet, their lousy father, _her. _

It is a fact, he knows this.

So then why do memories of a past he thought was long discarded still bombard him to this very moment?

The question persists restlessly, and Kagura's presence does nothing to ease his inner turmoil. It is only when she lets out another whimper and a furrow of her brows does he halt his train of thought. He ruffles her hair like he used to so long ago, in an effort to alleviate the nuances of being sick and bedridden. For the most part, it works.

Habits really don't break easily, Kamui reminds to himself. He lingers for just a second more.

Unfortunately, he knows time is of the essence at the moment, and feels his is starting to run out the longer he stays.

_'Wow,' _he muses. Since when had he become so reluctant to leave?

The thought is reciprocated clearly through his almost tortoise-like pace as he tucks Kagura back into her mussed sheets. His actions, albeit clumsy and awkward, are gentle and light, as if treading on a thin line. His light touches contain within them something more monumental than all the times his bare hands have mercilessly shredded through flesh.

It is so utterly contradicting to his usually reckless and brazen self that Kamui almost chuckles in response.

He feels just a slight pang of guilt knowing he is touching his innocent (she is always pure and naïve in his eyes, despite the cringe-worthy things he knows that damned samurai taught her) younger sister with blood-stained hands. The notion is gone in a flash when he remembers that they are Yato, and it is highly inconsiderate of him to actually be considerate of others.

Kamui settles for a light poke to Kagura's nose and a small ruffle of her vermilion locks to ensure all is well, before he steps back in satisfaction.

Then, in a tenth of a millisecond he is out the door in furtive surreptitiousness with skills a normal civilian would never be able to catch.

Except, Kagura isn't, by any means, a normal civilian.

"Next time we meet, we're settling the score, bastard."

He stops. Something sparks within him.

Kagura misses the way his shoulders tense and his eyes widen a millimeter of a fraction, doesn't care to as she stares in defiance.

Kamui notices, does nothing to counter her, doesn't dare to turn back around to face her.

Instead, he lets the full meaning of her words sink in, feels himself slowly relinquish the tight grasp he has on his blood lust, lets her sharp yet equally warm voice tightly embrace him in all of its entirety.

Kamui is proven wrong yet again

And yet again, he doesn't have it in him to care.

"_Ah._"

He smiles.


End file.
